On caregivers, faith, family, and writing…

Posts tagged ‘love’

Tomorrow | by Linda Brendle

Published in the Rains County Leader on February 15, 2024:

Ladies’ Bible Study provided inspiration for another column, especially in light of a subsequent tragedy. This week’s study was still in Ephesians 4 and focused on the characteristics of the new person we become after becoming a Christian. Of course, all these characteristics are good, and a lot of the discussion centered around how these traits should affect our relationships with the people in our lives.

As you might imagine, since a majority of us have been married for several decades, some of that conversation involved our spouses. We acknowledged the fact that, even in the most loving relationships, there are irritations. I’m sure wives contribute our share of annoyances, but since we were all women, all our examples were masculine – whiskers in the sink, inability to find the catsup – which has been kept in the same place for twenty years – and dirty socks on the floor.

But we didn’t focus completely on the negative. Someone mentioned the fact that there are widows in our church who would love to have the privilege of picking up after their loved one again. The subject ended in laughter when one of us quipped, “So when he drops his dirty underwear on the floor for me to pick up, he’s really leaving me a gift!” We all agreed to be more patient and focus on the positives that far outweigh the negatives in most relationships, marital or otherwise.

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100 Years Old and Still Serving | by Linda Brendle

Published in the Rains County Leader on January 25, 2024:

Last year about this time I shared about my Aunt Fay’s 99th birthday party and then continued with a rather boring column about longevity. I ended with the statement that I wanted to be the first to arrive at her 100th birthday party. That party was Saturday, January 20, and although I was far from the first, I was among the many who gathered in the Family Life Center of Brashear Baptist Church to celebrate her arrival at a landmark that few of us ever reach.

Even though David and I were not among the first guests, we were there before the birthday girl made her appearance. We were not bored, though. Relatives I had not seen in years came for the occasion and many members of her church family were there to honor their oldest member. Lots of hugs were given and received and lots of stories were exchanged while we waited for the guest of honor. When she walked in the door, she was greeted with a loud round of applause which she received graciously. Then she joined in the hug fest during which she did an amazing job of remembering names and faces.

Although she was stylishly late to her own party, Aunt Fay had valid reasons. She opened her home to several out-of-town guests and fixed them a full breakfast before driving herself to the beauty salon where her stylist swept her beautiful white hair into a French twist. She dressed in a dark lavender satin skirt and jacket she told me she had made to wear on a cruise she took with several of her sisters many years ago. She looked beautiful, but she was not really comfortable with all the attention. She did, however, love the fact that all five of her children and all seven of her grandchildren were present. I didn’t count the great-grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and in-laws, but her family was well represented. Comfortable or not, she graciously posed for the cameras that were pointed at her all day.

In years past, the family had celebrated her birthday by gathering at a local fish restaurant, so keeping up the tradition, one of her grandsons hired caterers to bring in fried fish and all the trimmings. And for those strange few who don’t care for fish, a granddaughter and her husband prepared an amazing brisket and side dishes. Before we ate, Aunt Fay gave a short welcome speech, refusing the megaphone she was offered but speaking loudly enough for all to hear. Then she gave thanks for the food, and I’m sure the Lord had no trouble hearing her familiar voice.

Of course, there was birthday cake. At first, she wanted someone else to cut the cake, but when her daughter reminded her that there were candles, she took her place in front of the cameras. We all sang Happy Birthday with enthusiasm, and she approached the table. As she leaned toward the cake, she let out a soft wordless exclamation under her breath, probably at seeing her age her age spelled out in three numerical candles instead of two. Then she smiled, blew out the candles, and cut the cake.

After lots of cake, cookies, and cupcakes were eaten, people began to say goodbye. There were lots of hugs and promises to keep in touch, but the celebration wasn’t over. The church celebrated Sunday as Miss Fay Day. She objected at first, but when she was told that it would be a day to give glory to God for what He had done for the past hundred years, she relented. Many of her family members returned for the service, and we filled almost three rows. The music director chose some of her favorite songs, and she was asked to give her testimony and sing a song. Using a microphone this time and sitting on a stool that she declared wasn’t very comfortable, she told about coming to know Jesus personally at a very young age. She told a few stories that made us laugh and several more to illustrate how God always shows up. She finished with the song, “The Ninety and Nine.” The service continued with a sermon from David Burns on what the Bible has to say about a long life. Of course, there was more food, too. At Aunt Fay’s request we enjoyed a wonderful baked potato bar along with more cake and other desserts. It was a wonderful way to end a weekend of honoring a woman who has touched countless lives in 100 years and isn’t finished yet.

Fay Hagan Robinson was born on January 20, 1924, the youngest of six children in a poor farming family in West Texas. She tells the story of being left at home while her older siblings went to school. Many times she found her mother kneeling in prayer, and she wanted to know this person her mother cared so much about. She was told she had to wait until she was older, but she didn’t want to wait. After a visiting aunt told her there was no age limit on realizing she was a sinner in need of a Savior, she went out behind her house by herself and really prayed for the first time. I shared some of my party pictures on Facebook, and one friend asked what her secret was. Among other things, I said that she loves the Lord and that she doesn’t sit around waiting for others to serve her. David Burns mentioned in his sermon that Aunt Fay frequently attends their Wednesday morning prayer meetings. One of her recent prayers was that the Lord show her what He wants her to do next as she continues to serve Him. If ever there was a secret to a long life, that’s it.

They still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green,   Psalm 92:14

Blessings,

Linda

City Girl – The Early Years (2011-2015)

Salvaged

Kitty’s Story

Fallen Angel Salvage

Tatia’s Tattoo

Mom’s Long Goodbye

A Long and Winding Road

Advent – Hope, Peace, Joy, Love | by Linda Brendle

Published in the Rains County Leader on December 21, 2023:

To the world at large, “advent” is just a word that means the beginning of an event, the invention of something, or the arrival of a person. However, on the Christian church calendar, it is the period of four weeks before Christmas, and in a larger perspective, the period of preparation for the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ at Christmas and also of preparation for the Second Coming of Christ. This year Advent began on Sunday, December 3, and will culminate on Sunday, December 24.

One of the traditions surrounding this season is the Advent wreath. The wreath includes four candles, one for each Sunday, and some include a fifth candle which represents Jesus, the reason behind the whole celebration. The colors of the four candles vary with some having three purple candles representing penance and one pink candle representing joy and others having four red candles. But the fifth candle is always white.

Even though the colors of the candles and the use of the wreath may differ somewhat, there seems to be agreement about the meaning of each of the four weeks. The first Sunday represents Hope, the second is Peace, the third is Joy, and the fourth is Love. In thinking back through the past month and in looking through the holiday pictures and posts that are so prevalent on social media this time of year, I found some ordinary examples of the extraordinary truths of the Christmas season.

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Daddy’s Legacy of Love and Peace | By Linda Brendle

Published in the Rains County Leader on June 22, 2023:

My Daddy and me – 1947

As I sit here on Father’s Day wondering what to write, my thoughts keep going to Daddy, so I want to share the first story I posted on the blog site I set up the year he died.

***

Daddy was a simple man. I don’t mean that he wasn’t smart. Quite the opposite. He was valedictorian of his high school graduating class, and he was great at helping me with my homework. He could figure out how to fix or build anything. When he worked for the Post Office, he could quote the manual verbatim and knew where every Texas town was located, no matter how small. But his needs and wants were simple, and he sometimes didn’t understand the complexities of the modern world. He didn’t leave behind a collection of awards and trophies or a big estate, but he left behind a legacy of peace and love that will live for a long time.

Young Lovers

Daddy passed away on May 13, 2011 at the age of 89. His physical legacy didn’t amount to much. He left a 1997 Buick Skylark with low mileage and a pretty good set of tires. He left an old .22 rifle and a beat up old shot gun, and he left a small box of old toys, report cards, letters and assorted memories. He left several boxes of tools and an odd variety of nails, screws and other hardware he had collected, just in case. He left a wardrobe that fit in a couple of boxes and large trash bags when it was taken to Good Will and a couple of inexpensive watches. He left a retirement annuity and a small savings account that would take care of Mom, but there wouldn’t be much left to pass on to his heirs when she was gone. And he left a plain gold wedding band.

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Valentine’s Day – a flashback from 2015 | by Linda Brendle

Published in the Rains County Leader on February 10, 2022:

The first item I submitted to the Rains County Leader was a letter to the editor called “Your Tax Dollars at Work.” It was an appeal to seniors in the area to check out the meals and activities at the Senior Center which was in danger of shutting down for lack of patronage. I don’t know how much influence that letter had, but it was published in September of 2011, and the Center is still going strong.

The letter had an unintended consequence – the birth of the City Girl column. In the last ten years, I’ve written hundreds of columns and thousands of words. One of the most common questions I’m asked by readers is Where do you get all your ideas? I don’t really have an answer for that except that I see life as a series of stories, and some of them are too good not to share. But there are those times when the stories and the words just won’t come, and this was one of those times. When that happens, I go back into my files in search of a story that’s worth retelling.

Since this column will be published just before that special day when sales of flowers and chocolates soar, I looked for related columns and found one from 2015 about a marriage conference Believers’ Baptist held on Valentine’s weekend that year. Since I had just told a story from that conference to some friends earlier in the day, it seemed like a sign. So here it is – again. Happy Valentine’s Day!

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Daddy’s Girl | by Linda Brendle

Published in the Rains County Leader on June 15, 2021:

My Daddy and me – 1947

My father has been in Heaven for ten years, but I still miss him and think about him a lot. He’s especially on my mind in June when there is so much emphasis on fathers, so in honor of the special day we just celebrated, I want to share some of my favorite memories of the man I called Daddy.

  1. I was Daddy’s girl, especially when I was little. When he went anywhere, I wanted to go with him. In the time before seat belts and child seats, he was my child restraint system. I remember standing beside him, tucked “safely” behind his right shoulder. As shocking as that may be to our safety conscious society, I felt completely safe and lovingly protected.
  2. Another of my favorite memories is something that today’s children, strapped and restrained as they are, will never experience. From time to time, he would let me sit in his lap and drive the car. Of course, all I was doing was holding onto the steering wheel while he continued to be in complete control. Still, it was fun, it was a great confidence builder, and it was great practice for my later life as a Christian when I finally realized who is really in control.
  3. I loved going to work with Daddy. The first job I remember was at a lumber yard, and when Mom would take his lunch to him, my brother Jim and I would go climb on the stacks of lumber. Later, he took a job at the Post Office, and he sometimes picked me up from school. While he cased his mail for the next day, I’d sit on a stool at a work table and practice my letters or put my fingers through the air holes in the crates of baby chicks and pet their fuzzy yellow feathers. I’m sure we broke lots of OSHA and Federal regulations, but being a real part of his life was worth being a bit of an outlaw.
  4. A friend once told me that, when God made me, He forgot to put in the higher gears. I’m not sure exactly what she meant, but perhaps she was referring to my tendency to nod off in either a car or a church. In the early years, as soon as the sermon began, I put my head in Daddy’s lap and went to sleep. Sometimes, though, I stayed awake and sat in his lap. I amused myself, and totally ruined his ability to concentrate, by playing with his tie. I would begin at the bottom, roll it up to the knot, and release it. After it rolled out to its full length, I repeated the process. Maybe that’s why, for every gift-giving occasion, I gave him a tie.
  5. When I was five, we moved into a house where I had my own bedroom. Until then, I had slept in a crib in my parents’ room or shared a bed with Jim in the living room. For a few months, I had occasional sleep-walking episodes during which I assume I was looking for companionship. Several times I woke up sitting on the side of Mom and Dad’s bed with Daddy sitting beside me, his eyes full of sleep and his hair standing on end, trying to stop the flow of my tears and reassuring me that everything was okay.
jim_0025

I also jotted down five memories of how Daddy provided support and practical aid later in my life when I was single again. Before I completely exceed my allotted word count, I’ll summarize:

  • He often hung curtains and pictures, installed ceiling fans, and finished many other things on my “I don’t have a honey to do” list.
  • In addition to caring for his own yard, he mowed, trimmed, and edged mine. He also removed and disposed of tomato worms that tried to take over my patio tomatoes.
  • Although he wasn’t in a position to offer financial assistance, he didn’t hesitate to co-sign a note when my old car bit the dust.
  • Daddy always had a key to my house, and more than once he got up out of bed and came over to unlock my door when I locked myself out.
  • Daddy showed me how a godly man should love his wife. His love for Mom was one of the defining realities of his life. He loved her as Paul told the Ephesians to love their wives and would have given up his life for her. He told her every day how beautiful she was and how much he loved her, and he never tired of kissing her or holding her hand.
jim_0027

There’s much more, but these are a few of the things that added up to a lifetime of love and care. Daddy led by example and loved by acts of service. Happy Father’s Day to the first man I ever loved.

Blessings,

Linda

Kitty’s Story

Fallen Angel Salvage

Tatia’s Tattoo

Mom’s Long Goodbye

A Long and Winding Road

Tatia’s Tattoo: Chapter 20 – …AND IN THE SLAMMER. Read it here!

The first man who approaches Tatia on the street turns out to be Officer Kevin Adams, and she spends her first night in jail.

For the past few weeks I have been sharing sample chapters of Tatia’s Tattoo. Links to previous chapters are at the end of this post. Following is Chapter 20.

Final_Tatia's Tattoo Cover trim size

CHAPTER 20: …AND IN THE SLAMMER

The man reached into his hip pocket and pulled out his wallet. He popped it open with one smooth, practiced move, exposing his badge and confirming Tatia’s worst fears.

“Kevin Adams, Cameron PD. You’re under arrest for prostitution. Stand up and turn around with your hands behind your back.”

As he began reciting her rights, he pulled some flex-cuffs out of his pocket. He hated the things, because if you tightened them too much, you had to cut them off and start over before your detainee ended up with blue hands. The metal ones tended to rattle at the wrong time, though, so he made do.

“Do you understand these rights as I’ve told them to you?” he asked as he tested the cuffs to make sure he hadn’t made them too loose.

“Yes,” said Tatia in a voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by the buzz of her cell phone. “Can I take my phone?”

“You can’t handle it in the car, and you know you can’t keep it when they put you in a cell.”

“Oh,” she replied with tears in her voice.

“First time?” he asked with his voice softening a little.

“Yes.”

He picked up the phone and slid it into his pocket. “They’ll give it back to you when you’re released.”

Tatia nodded, biting her lip and struggling to control the fear of what would happen when she was released. Eric had no patience with girls who cost him time and money by getting arrested. Officer Adams held her arm securely but not roughly as he directed her back to his car, and he was careful not to bump her head when he helped her into the back seat. She knew Eric would not be so gentle.

While he drove to the station, Tatia saw him glancing at her in the rearview mirror every now and then. Finally, he spoke.

“What’s your last name, Kaitlyn?”

“Golden,” she answered.

“How old are you.”

She did a quick mental calculation, making sure her answer matched her ID. “Twenty,” she said.

“Shame,” he said. “If you were, say, sixteen or seventeen, this would be a lot easier for you – especially if you told me where to find the guy you texted back in the room.”

“Oh, that,” she said. “That was just my roommate letting her know that I wouldn’t be home tonight.”

“Ahh,” he said cynically. “I thought it might be your pimp.”

“No, I don’t have a manager. I’m on my own – just making a little spending money,” she said, trying to sound much more blasé than she felt.

Both driver and passenger were silent for the rest of the trip. Adams pulled into a parking lot where he pulled in between two patrol cars. He helped Tatia out and guided her up the steps into the station and past the front desk where an officer was talking on the phone with his feet up on the desk.

“Slow night, huh?” said Adams.

“Yeah. Looks like you got a live one.”

“Uh-huh. Is Anderson here?”

“Yeah, she’s taking a break. We don’t have a houseful, but there are a few ahead of you.”

Tatia’s eyes were wide with apprehension as the reality of her situation played out in front of her. “Where are you taking me?” she whispered to Kevin.

He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “To a holding cell where you’ll stay until we’re ready to complete the booking process. Then you’ll be moved to a pre-arraignment cell where you’ll stay until the judge gets here and gets started tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” she said with tears puddling and threatening to spillover.

“It won’t be too bad. I type slow, and the night’s half over anyway.”

“You still have my phone, right?”

“Right here,” he said, patting his pocket.

The holding cell was down the hall from the front desk, but Tatia wished it was miles further. The small barred room was bare except for four metal benches bolted to the wall and the floor, a sink against the back wall, and an exposed toilet next to it. Women were lying on two of the benches with their faces turned toward the wall, and a third was sitting on another. None of them paid any attention as Kevin and Tatia approached. The officer who was sitting outside the cell at a tiny desk, however, gave her a thorough inspection.

“Hey, Adams! Looks like you caught a new one tonight. I haven’t seen her around here before.”

“Be nice, Hill. She’s never been inside before.”

“Yeah, first time but probably not the last. You know the drill – sign her in.” He shoved a clip board toward Kevin and continued his inspection of Tatia. Kevin wrote down her name, his name as the arresting officer, and the time.

“Okay, Hill. Get your lazy butt out of that chair and open the door so we can get on with this.”

While Hill unlocked the door, Kevin pulled a utility knife out of his pocket and used it to remove the cuffs from Tatia’s wrists. She rubbed her wrists, not because they hurt, but because she couldn’t believe she had actually been handcuffed. Hill swung the door open, she took a couple of steps inside, and stopped, frozen in place.

“This might take a little while,” said Kevin. “There are three ahead of you, but Officer Anderson will come get you and finish the process as soon as she can.”

About ten minutes later, Tatia moved toward the remaining vacant bench when she realized her toes were going numb from standing in four-inch heels. She sat on the edge of the bench, just enough to take the pressure off her feet, and stared at her hands to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

Tatia didn’t know how long she had been sitting there when she heard a female voice call out a name. She looked up long enough to watch Officer Anderson collect one of the other women and take her back down the hall. Anderson didn’t look nearly as nice as Kevin. In fact, the tall, husky brunette had a scowling mouth and an intense look that scared Tatia. She scooted back against the wall, tucked her feet under her, and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep from trembling.

She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, Anderson was calling her name. She stumbled to the door, trying to clear the sleep out of her head, and followed the officer to another room where she was instructed to sit down in the chair beside the desk. Anderson tapped on her keyboard for a few minutes, then, she began to ask Tanya some simple questions.

“Full name?”

Tatia caught herself before she gave her real name. “Kaitlyn Golden.”

She made it through the rest of the questions, stumbling only slightly over her date of birth. She gave Cindy as her contact person, and she answered the medical questions easily since she had always been healthy. Before she printed the completed form, Anderson asked three more questions.

“Do you understand that you are being booked on a charge of Prostitution, a Class B misdemeanor?”

“Yes,” replied Tatia quietly.

“Were your rights read to you, and do you understand those rights?”

“Yes,” she whispered, thinking that the only rights she had were the ones Eric said she had.

“Would you like to make a phone call?”

“Yes, please.”

Anderson dialed the number Tatia gave her and then handed the phone to her. Tatia listened hopefully to several rings, but her face fell as the voice mail activated. She listened to the familiar message before leaving one of her own. “Cindy, I hope you got my text. I’m at the Cameron PD, and court starts in less than an hour. Please come get me!”

The sound of Tatia’s voice was covered by the chatter of the printer next to Anderson’s desk. The officer took the phone back from Tatia and reached into her desk drawer, pulling out an ink pad and another form. As if she was grabbing another implement off her desk, she grabbed Tatia’s hand and began rolling her fingers, first across the ink and then across the form. While she worked, Tatia asked her first question.

“Will I be searched?”

The hint of a smile tugged at one corner of the officer’s mouth. Without looking up, she replied. “Not that a full-body search would be all that new to you, but no. I don’t think you could hide anything under that dress. Besides,” she said, looking at her watch. “It’s less than an hour until court convenes. We won’t even have time to put you into one of our lovely orange jumpsuits.”

Anderson directed Tatia to an area with a backdrop that reminded Tatia of the back of the closet door where her mother measured her every few months to see how much she had grown. It was the first time she could remember being glad her mother was dead – at least she didn’t have to see what her daughter had become.

“Face the camera and hold this in front of you,” said Anderson as she handed her a slate with her name and a series of numbers on it. After snapping a front view and a profile shot, Anderson directed Tatia back to her desk. “Have a seat while I get your inmate ID.”

She came back in a few minutes with a strip of plastic that contained Tatia’s ID number, her name, her mug shot, and a bar code. As Anderson fastened the bracelet around Tatia’s wrist, she caught a glimpse of Tatia’s tattoo peeking out from under her three-quarter-length sleeve. She pushed the sleeve up a little and made a clucking sound with her tongue.

“Looks like you already have an ID. I thought Officer Adams said you were a solo act.”

Tatia pulled her sleeve down, folded her arms across her chest so the tattoo was well hidden, and exercised her right to remain silent.

# # #

Thank you for following Tatia’s adventures through the first 20 of 55 chapters. You can find the complete book on Amazon in either digital for $.99 or paperback.

Preface and Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5| Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16| Chapter 17 | Chapter 18| Chapter 19

Blessings,

Linda

Tatia’s Tattoo: Chapter 19 – ON THE STROLL… Read it here!

Tatia hated picking up clients on the street. She never knew whether she was picking up a crazy man or a cop.

For the past few weeks I have been sharing sample chapters of Tatia’s Tattoo and will continue through Chapter 20. Links to previous chapters are at the end of this post. Following is Chapter 19. Chapter 20 will be posted on Thursday.

Final_Tatia's Tattoo Cover trim size

CHAPTER 19: ON THE STROLL…

The first time she was arrested, she was sporting a dark, shoulder-length pageboy. A new client had requested a brunette, so Eric had purchased a wig for her. The client must have been pleased, because he left her a nice tip. After he left, she went into the bathroom to freshen up and make sure her hair was on straight. She didn’t really like the look. The darker color made her face look harsh and angular, and the darker make-up Cindy had told her to use looked overdone. Still, if the client was happy, Eric was happy – and if Eric was happy, so was she.

Eric had said she was booked almost solid for the next several hours, so she was surprised when her phone rang. When she was working, she set it to let only calls from Eric come through, and he never called her while she was entertaining clients.

“Hello?” she said, wondering what she had done wrong now.

“Hey, Tatia,” Eric said in a pleasant tone. “How’d the guy like you as brunette?”

Tatia relaxed a bit, hoping she wasn’t in trouble after all. “He liked it. He left me an extra twenty bucks.”

“Good job. I’ll split the tip with you.”

Tatia started to protest, but she knew better. At least he was only taking half. “Thanks, Eric.”

“No problem, kiddo. Hey, you had a couple of cancellations and a couple of unfilled time slots, so your next client won’t be there for an hour or so.”

Tatia breathed a silent sigh of relief and thought about the book she had just downloaded today. She always carried her reader with her, just in case, and she felt a rush of hopeful excitement at the prospect of some free time to read. Her hopes were short lived, though, as Eric continued.

“I want you to go out and see if you can scout up a quick walk-in or two, if you know what I mean.”

“Sure, Eric,” she said, careful to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“Just be sure to be ready when your next client gets there at 1:30.”

“OK.”

“Great! Love ya, babe!”

She hated going on the stroll. It was scary enough when Eric pre-screened the clients on-line, but it terrified her to pick up strangers on the street. Not as much as facing Eric’s anger terrified her, though, so she slid into the clingy red dress and the knee-high black boots she had worn to work. She checked her hair and make-up one last time, grabbed her hot pink phone clutch, and slid her room key card into the pocket next to her fake ID. Then, she hit “Messages,” Cindy’s number, and her frequently used emoticons.

After one of the other girls had been mugged in an alley off the stroll the month before, Cindy had made up some special icons. One showed a screaming girl by a car; another showed the same screaming girl sitting on a bed, and the third showed a policeman. The idea was that, in case one of the girls had a problem, all she had to do was hit the appropriate emoticon, send it to Cindy, and she would send help. They hadn’t really talked about what would happen if Cindy was working, but Eric didn’t want them texting him. Even though Tatia had not run into trouble yet, she wanted to be as prepared as possible. Satisfied that she had covered all her bases, she snapped the gaudy rhinestone clasp closed, stepped out the door, and began the two-block walk to the area where prostitutes and their clients often connected.

Tatia sauntered casually down the sidewalk with the hip-swaying gait Cindy had taught her, the one that was guaranteed to attract attention. As she walked, she thought about her new book. She often browsed through the shelves at the library when she had time, making notes of books she might want to download. Recently, she had come across Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers and was instantly captivated. The cover blurb said it was about a girl who was sold into prostitution as a child but later found redemption in the love of God and the love of a godly man. It sounded like a fairy tale, but Tatia couldn’t resist finding out how the author imagined such a miracle might happen.

She was so deep in thought that she was startled when she heard a pleasant male voice say, “Hey there.”

“Oh,” she said, catching her breath as her hand flew up to her chest. “I didn’t hear you drive up.”

One of the reasons this area was so popular with the trade was that the one-way street allowed the drivers to talk to the girls without having to shout across the car or across an oncoming lane of traffic. Tatia recovered her composure and continued to walk slowly forward while offering the driver what she hoped was an inviting smile. He looked to be in his mid-thirties with sandy brown hair that looked as if he ran his hands through it a lot. He also had friendly eyes that crinkled a little bit at the corners when he returned her smile timidly.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said, allowing the car to drift along beside her. “I thought maybe you were looking for some company. Maybe I made a mistake.”

“No, you’re not wrong. I was feeling kinda lonely, so I thought I’d take a walk.” She walked over to the car and leaned into the window. Cindy had taught her that, too. “What did you have in mind?”

“Ummm, I-I-I,” he stuttered. “I’m kinda new at this.”

He certainly wasn’t like a lot of the guys she saw cruising around, acting tough and trying to look cool. Tatia smiled, thinking he might be one of the not-so-bad ones. “Tell you what. I have a room a couple of blocks over. Do you want to come over and have a drink?”

“Sure,” he said, sounding relieved. “That sounds nice.”

Tatia walked around to the passenger’s side and stepped into the car, making sure the hem of her dress slid up provocatively. She buckled herself in and gave him directions to the motel. She told him where to park, led the way to her door, unlocked it, and invited him in.

“By the way,” she said, closing the door behind them, “my name’s Kaitlyn. I don’t really have anything to offer you to drink except a soda from the machine outside.”

“Hi, Kaitlyn. I’m Kevin. I’m not really thirsty anyway,” he said, looking down at the floor.

Tatia chuckled at his innocence. She sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed her long legs.

“Then what do you want, Kevin?” she asked. Knowing the clock was ticking and Eric was expecting results, she began to make suggestions and quote prices. Suddenly, the person in front of her transformed from a timid, insecure mouse into a strong, confident man on a mission, a man she instinctively knew was a cop.

“Crap!” she said under her breath. Her phone clutch was still in her hand, so she flipped open the clasp, touched the third icon, and hit send. “Eric’s gonna kill me.”

# # #

Want to read more? Buy the complete book on Amazon in either digital or paperback.

Preface and Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

Blessings,

Linda

Tatia’s Tattoo: Chapter 18 – LIMITED OPTIONS. Read it here!

Tatia learns to use her books to escape from reality. But even when she does exactly what Eric tells her to, she can’t escape his wrath.

For the past few weeks I have been sharing sample chapters of Tatia’s Tattoo and will continue through Chapter 20. Links to previous chapters are at the end of this post. Following is Chapter 18. Chapter 19 will be posted on Sunday.

Final_Tatia's Tattoo Cover trim size

CHAPTER 18: LIMITED OPTIONS

Eric took everyone to dinner at an Italian restaurant – nothing like where he had taken Tatia for her birthday, but the food was good, and it was a nice way to spend another few minutes feeling like a normal teenager. After dinner, Eric allowed Zach to drive down the Strip so they could see all the lights at night, but there was no time to stop. He had a full schedule of clients lined up for each girl, so they left the lights behind and spent the next several hours at the motel.

Tatia had been too tired to pay much attention to her assigned room earlier, but as she glanced around now, she noted that it was almost identical to every room she’d been in since she left Josie’s. As it turned out, it looked like every room on the way back to Texas, too – and like the rooms where Cindy had set up shop back in Cameron.

Tatia read a lot on the return trip, mostly in the car, but sometimes in the few minutes between clients. She had learned to separate herself mentally and emotionally from situations she couldn’t deal with, but she also discovered a new ability to withdraw into the world of her books while with her clients. It was a healthier method of getting through the night than the chemicals used by most of the other girls.

The reality of her new life was all too real, though. One morning shortly after the trip, she was between books, so she accepted Cindy’s invitation to go shoe shopping. Tatia was saving for a leather jacket she had seen at the mall, so she watched as her friend picked out a pair of fancy cross trainers and some evening sandals with spiked heels. As Cindy paid for shoes, Tatia knew they would join the many other pairs in the top of her closet, but she was glad to see Cindy look almost happy for a little while. They left the store, chatting about where to have lunch, when Cindy stopped dead still and stared at Tatia.

“Are you on the pill?” she asked urgently.

“No,” said Tatia, surprised by the sudden subject change. “But after that first night, Eric told me to make sure the guys use a condom. You know that, Cindy. You keep me supplied.”

“I know, but those things don’t always work,” she said, dialing her cell phone. “Yes, I’ll hold,” she said impatiently. Looking back at Tatia, she went on. “Eric usually takes care of this part of it. He’s got a special deal worked out with the doc. I can’t believe he forgot – but he sure throws a fit if one of the girls gets pregnant. Last time it happened I thought he was gonna kill her – like it was her fault. Anyway…” she held up her hand while she listened to someone on the other end of the phone.

“Yes, this is Cindy, Eric Hall’s administrative assistant. I need to talk with the doctor. Yes, I’ll hold.”

Later that afternoon, before Tatia’s first client was scheduled, she stood in the alley behind the doctor’s office as Cindy knocked on the door. A short, pudgy man in a lab coat opened the door, and Cindy introduced him as Dr. Simmons. He shook hands with Tatia, and as his eyes slid slowly down her body, she sighed inwardly as she realized her 8:00 o’clock wasn’t going to be her first client of the day after all.

When Tatia wasn’t working, she shared a room with Cindy in the two-bedroom apartment they both shared with Kaycee and Belinda. In the past, Cindy had an apartment by herself or sometimes with one roommate. However, she managed to incur Eric’s wrath more often lately, and while she was recovering from his expressions of that wrath, she comforted herself with junk food and spiked sodas. The evidence of Eric’s abuse and her overindulgence made her less popular with the clients, and her decreased production meant she lost the privilege of upgraded living quarters.

Tatia felt sorry for Cindy, but she was glad to be her roommate. Cindy had a laptop that she used to keep track of the business, and when she wasn’t busy, she let Tatia use it. Tatia had learned about email at the library, so at first she would check to see if anyone was trying to contact her. She received a few messages from Ms. Dunham asking where she was and if she was okay, but when she didn’t respond, even those emails stopped. Instead of focusing on an empty inbox, she surfed the Internet, looking for new sources for free e-books and reading about different authors on Goodreads and other sites devoted to the written word.

Sometimes she looked over Cindy’s shoulder while she was working, and she asked questions about the word and data processing programs she was using. Cindy didn’t seem to mind, and she even let Tatia do some elementary data entry from time to time.

The other girls were not nearly as companionable. They bickered and whined about real or imaginary violations of their limited personal space, and they argued over who worked the hardest and who Eric loved more. In spite of repeated hints and a few outright requests, they continued to smoke inside and to clutter the apartment with dirty clothes, crumpled fast food wrappers, and empty liquor bottles. Tatia worked harder to stay in Eric’s good graces, hoping he would relent and allow her to have her own place with Cindy as a roommate.

The majority of her time, though, was not spent in the apartment but rather in one of the many sleazy motel rooms where she worked. Since he had taken on a couple of new girls, Eric had expanded his underground advertising and his client base. Now that she was always available, he sometimes booked Tatia for ten to twelve hours straight, often selling her to over a hundred men a month.

At first she thought a lot about the time she spent with Eric before her birthday, and hoped that once he had built his finances back up, things would go back to the way they were. She had been disappointed that their first road trip had been a working one with others along instead of a romantic trip for two, but she still wanted to believe that maybe one day he would take her away. Then, one night after a particularly difficult client, she was washing up when Eric came bursting into the room. As she leaned over the sink, he grabbed her by the hair and flung her back into the room where she hit the edge of the bed and slid down onto the floor.

“Eric, what…” she began, looking up at him in confusion.

“Shut up,” he said, backhanding her across the mouth. “Your last customer was very unhappy with you,” he continued in a threatening voice. “I don’t like unhappy customers.”

“Neither do I, Eric. They don’t tip.”

“And did he tip you?” he asked stepping closer and sliding his belt out of its loops.

“No,” she said, her eyes wide with fear.

“He didn’t pay either,” said Eric.

By the time he left the room, she was so badly beaten that she couldn’t work for several days. Eric took her tips for the next several months to make up for the lost income, but there was no way for her to recover her lost dreams.

# # #

Want to read more? Buy the complete book on Amazon in either digital or paperback.

Preface and Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4| Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Blessings,

Linda

Tatia’s Tattoo: Chapter 17 – CHOICES. Read it here!

Tatia finds out the difference between taking a road trip and being on the circuit – something she would rather not know, especially from experience.

For the past few weeks I have been sharing sample chapters of Tatia’s Tattoo and will continue through Chapter 20. Links to previous chapters are at the end of this post. Following is Chapter 17. Chapter 18 will be posted on Thursday.

Final_Tatia's Tattoo Cover trim size

CHAPTER 17: CHOICES

Tatia was exhausted when she arrived at the rendezvous point a few minutes before midnight the following night. She hadn’t slept well, and her last day of school had been emotionally draining. The hours dragged as she went through the motions of a normal evening that was anything but normal. When it was finally time to go, all she wanted to do was stretch out on the bed and sleep. Instead, she peeked into the kids’ rooms, blew them silent kisses, and slipped out the window one last time. She walked along an off-road nature trail to avoid running into a late-night patrol car, and she waited in the trees where she wouldn’t be seen by any passing cars. The sounds of the night made her nervous, and she was relieved when the Beemer pulled up shortly after she reached her hiding place.

Zach jumped out as soon as the car came to a stop. “Evenin’, Miss Tatia, I mean Miss Kaitlyn. Eric said I need to use your new name,” he said, wearing a characteristic grin on his face and a pair of wireless headphones around his neck.

Tatia’s shoulders drooped, and she looked back the way she had come. It seemed she was leaving more behind than she had realized. She was leaving what little was left of herself behind and becoming whatever Eric wanted her to be.

“Miss Kaitlyn, we really need to get moving,” said Zach.

“I’m sorry,” she said, handing him her backpack.

He popped the trunk and stowed it among several bags of various descriptions. She was startled to see that her boots and the blue canvas shopping bag that held her work clothes were there.

“Zach,” she said. “You usually leave my work clothes at the motel after you check me in for the night. Why did you bring it with you?”

“I’ll let the girls explain that to you. Right now, Mr. Eric is in a hurry to get on the road.” He opened the back door and closed it behind her once she was seated beside Kaycee and Belinda, two of Eric’s other girls. Eric was in the front passenger seat, isolated from the rest of the passengers by a black satin eyeshade and a pair of wireless headphones. Zach slid into the driver’s seat, positioned his own headphones, and headed for the highway.

“What’s going on?” whispered Tatia. “I was supposed to have two clients tonight.”

Kaycee, a tiny girl with straight black hair and almond shaped eyes, whispered back. “Eric got a tip that the cops were gonna raid several of the motels tonight, so he cancelled all the appointments. We’ve been hanging out at the coffee shop for an hour or so waiting until time to meet you.”

“What about Cindy and the other girls?”

“They’re getting a night off, too, except for Cindy, of course. She’ll spend all night dealing with irate customers and trying to find safe places to set the girls up and get the cash flowing again. Eric hates downtime when he’s not making money. That’s why he’s hibernating. He’s in a really bad mood.”

Tatia was quiet for a few minutes, mulling over what she had just heard. Then she said, almost to herself, “I still don’t understand why Eric brought my work clothes.”

Belinda, who was a few years older than the other two, spoke up in the tone of a senior speaking to an inexperienced freshman. “You haven’t been on a road trip before, have you?”

“No, but Eric said we’d head up to Las Vegas for a little R & R,” said Tatia, a little defensively. “He said we might even do some sight-seeing, like the Grand Canyon or something.”

Belinda put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Honey, the only sights you’ll be seeing are the ceilings of some different motels and maybe the inside of some truck sleepers. We’re not on a road trip – we’re on the circuit.” With that, she closed her eyes, pulled a sweat jacket over her shoulders like a blanket, and leaned her head against the window.

“Don’t let her get to you,” whispered Kaycee, leaning close to Tatia. “She’s just got her panties in a twist because she’s not queen bee anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, Eric specializes in really young girls. Once you’re past thirteen or fourteen, a lot of our customers don’t want you. Belinda is seventeen. I wouldn’t be surprised if Eric doesn’t trade her to another stable.”

“But what about Cindy? She’s almost twenty.”

“Cindy’s special. I don’t mean like she and Eric are in love or anything, but she was his first girl, so I think he keeps her around for sentimental reasons. She also knows his business better than he does. She keeps track of his clients, the appointments, the girls – all that kind of stuff.”

As it turned out, Belinda was right. When Eric woke up, he plugged his laptop and his wireless card into the accessory plugs and accessed the Internet. Tatia learned later what he was doing.

First, he contacted a nearby motel known to be friendly to the trade where he booked a room for each of them. Then, he went to one of several underground websites that specialize in advertising the services of prostitutes on the move. He posted the ages and vital stats of the girls along with their availability, and within an hour, they were all booked for four solid hours – three to four clients an hour. After their work was done, the girls had time for a shower and a few hours sleep before they grabbed a quick breakfast and hit the road again.

The next two nights they didn’t bother with a motel. Instead, Eric put out the word that they would be at a well-known truck stop around midnight. Again, all three girls were busy for several hours, moving in the shadows at the back of the parking lot from one truck to another. The nights at the truck stops were the worst, because they slept in the car while they traveled to the next destination. Eric wouldn’t even allow them to shower in the truck stops because of the cops that often dropped in for coffee and a bite to eat. On those nights, the smell of sweat, unwashed bodies, and stale cigarette smoke clung to all of them and kept Tatia awake until she finally passed out from exhaustion.

In the wee hours of Sunday morning, after leaving another truck stop behind, Tatia was sitting in a cloud of second-hand smoke, wondering how long it took to develop lung problems. When Kaycee offered her a cigarette, she accepted it out of boredom and self defense. It made her cough, and she hated the way it tasted, but it gave her something to do. Kaycee and Belinda agreed that she looked more sophisticated and a bit sexy when she smoked, so at the next stop, she bought a pack of her own along with a disposable lighter.

Later in the morning, they finally drove into Las Vegas. The girls gawked and oohed and aahed as they rolled slowly past one glitzy hotel after another, but Eric told Zach to keep driving. Finally, he directed the driver into the parking lot of a motel that was off the Strip. It was far from five stars but was still better than many they had seen. While Zach went in to register and get room keys, Eric turned toward the back seat.

“Okay, time for a little break. It’s 9:00 now. Go take a shower and get some rest. Meet me back here at 3:00 this afternoon, and we’ll go on a little outing. Dress casual.”

The girls each had a separate room, so they knew they’d be entertaining clients later, but they were too tired to care. Tatia took a hot shower and crawled into bed with her hair still wet. She set the alarm on her cell phone and immediately fell into a restless sleep – and a new nightmare.

She fought to free herself from the arms that grasped her, crying out silently for Mama. Mama didn’t come, though. She was lying in a box with Daddy, both of them cold and lifeless, staring up at her with painted faces that melted into a pile of ashes while Eric grabbed at her, pulling her through the door of a shabby motel room filled with men waiting in line beside a bed covered with dirty, rumpled sheets. They chanted her name again and again as she struggled toward a persistent ringing sound just outside the door.

The fog of sleep thinned slightly – enough for Tatia to realize the ringing was her alarm and that the restraint she felt was from the sheets that were tangled around her and not Eric’s arms. She groped for her phone and raised one eyelid far enough to peek at the time. She groaned when she saw that it was already 2:30. Still exhausted, her body aching from the abuse she had endured the last three nights, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sink into the oblivion of sleep. She feared the nightmares that waited there, though, and she feared Eric’s anger if she didn’t show up as ordered, so she dragged herself out of the snarled bedclothes and headed for the bathroom.

At two minutes before 3:00, Tatia trudged across the parking lot toward Belinda and Kaycee who looked somewhat refreshed as they leaned against the car, chatting and waiting for Eric to arrive. They fell silent as they saw Tatia, and Belinda eyed her with a sneer.

“Hey, girl! You look like something I scooped out of my cat’s litter box. You having trouble keeping up the pace?”

Kaycee shushed her quietly. “Hush, Belinda. You know Eric doesn’t like it when you rag on the other girls. Besides, Tatia’s not an old pro like you.”

Belinda scowled at her emphasis on the word “old,” but Kaycee ignored her and turned her attention to Tatia. “What’s the matter, girlfriend? Didn’t you get any sleep?”

“Not so much,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Too many dreams.”

“If Cindy were here, she could fix that,” said Belinda with a raised eyebrow.

“Right,” said Kaycee, “and then she’d need something to wake up, and on and on.”

“Don’t be so self-righteous. I’ve seen you pop a few uppers and downers in your time.”

Before the conversation turned into a real scrap, Eric and Zach showed up and jumped into the car. The two girls glared at each other as they slid into the back seat, and Tatia followed silently, ignoring them both and leaning her head against the window.

Eric directed Zach to a nearby shopping mall – not one of the fancy ones for tourists but one that looked as if it was frequented by the locals. When Zach had parked, Eric pulled out his money clip and gave each one of them, including Zach, two hundred dollars.

“You’ve worked hard. I have a meeting, so go have some fun. You, too, Zach. I’ll drive myself. Stay together or split up, whatever you want. Just be back at this entrance at 6:00 pm. We’ll go have some dinner before we go back to the motel. Don’t make me wait – we’re booked solid tonight.”

Belinda and Kaycee, drawn back together by the prospect of spending money, immediately began planning new outfits. Kaycee asked Tatia if she wanted to come with them, but she shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m going to look for a bookstore.”

Nobody asked Zach, but he walked beside Tatia as she headed for the entrance. “I don’t care much for clothes, so I think I’ll tag along with you if that’s okay.”

“Sure, Zach,” she said, brightening up a little. “I’d enjoy the company.”

“So you like to read, huh?” he asked.

“Yes, I usually take a book or two everywhere I go. But when Eric told me about this trip, I didn’t realize we’d be spending so much time in the car and, well, indoors. I didn’t bring anything to read, and I don’t sleep very well in the car, so there’s nothing to do but smoke – and I don’t like cigarettes much.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Reading is much better for your health.” They walked in silence for a few minutes, looking in the windows and watching the other shoppers. Then, Zach broke the silence. “Hey, I have an idea. Have you ever used one of those e-readers?”

“No, I haven’t, but that’s a great idea.”

“I think some of them even light up so you can read in the dark.”

She was energized, now that she had a goal. They found a map of the mall and located an electronics store one floor up and a few stores down on the right. She found a helpful salesman, and while he was showing her the options, Zach entertained himself by testing out all the latest headphones. She settled for a simple backlit reader so she would have as much left over as possible for e-books. The salesman helped her buy a couple of books and then helped her set up a gift card online with her extra money. All she had to do when she finished the books she had was choose another title.

When she was finished, she found Zach comparing the pictures on a line of TVs. “I’m all set and ready to read,” she said holding up her bag. “We have over an hour left. Now we need to spend your money.”

“No,” he said, suddenly seeming a little shy. “I’m saving for an engagement ring. With what Eric gave me today, I’m almost there.”

“Well congratulations,” said Tatia. “She’s a very lucky lady.”

“No, I’m the lucky one,” he said.

“So, how about the food court. I know Eric said we were going to dinner, but spending money makes me hungry.”

“Sounds good. I could use a snack.”

They found the food court without too much trouble, and he bought a slice of pepperoni while she ordered a cup of non-fat strawberry frozen yogurt. While they ate, they chatted about books they had read and places they would like to travel. When they finished, they disposed of their trash and strolled toward the entrance, as comfortable in each other’s company as if they had known each other forever.

They reached the parking lot before any of the others, so they found a bench and sat down. She reached in her purse, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and offered him one.

“No, thanks. I don’t smoke,” he said.

“But you have a pack right there in your shirt pocket.”

“Yes, I do, but have you ever seen me smoke one?”

She thought for a moment before answering. “Now that you mention it, no I haven’t.”

“I carry them because Eric expects me to have them in case he runs out. I don’t like the taste of them, and I don’t like how I smell after I’ve smoked them.”

“Yeah, me too. In fact, I had never smoked until this trip, but Belinda and Kaycee said I look good smoking.”

“Tatia, you’re a beautiful young lady, and you look good regardless of what you’re doing. But I personally don’t find a smoking woman particularly attractive.”

Tatia’s cheeks colored at the unexpected compliment. “Thanks for the kind words and the good advice.” She looked at the cigarettes and put them back in her purse. “You’re right, of course. I don’t seem to have much choice about what I do for a living, but I have decided not to drink or do drugs. I guess I can do without this vice, too. Maybe I’ll keep these just in case Eric runs out.”

They laughed as Belinda and Kaycee ran up behind them, giggling breathlessly, and Eric screeched to a stop in front of them and beeped the horn.

“Well,” said Zach, standing up. “Duty calls.”

“Yeah,” Tatia sighed. “No rest for the wicked.”

# # #

Want to read more? Buy the complete book on Amazon in either digital or paperback.

Preface and Chapter 1 |Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 |Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16

Blessings,

Linda